


Loaded Pistol

by cobain_cleopatra



Series: Little Crow [4]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Dishonored AU, Fluff, Grumpy Daud, M/M, Medium Chaos (Dishonored), Pining, Self-Sacrifice, Slow Burn, Smut, Snarky Corvo, The Brigmore Witches DLC, Violence, whaler Corvo, younger Corvo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:50:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7731040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobain_cleopatra/pseuds/cobain_cleopatra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Whalers are close to discovering Delilah's plans for the Empire. Growing confident in his new powers and his new relationship with Daud, Corvo's future looks assured. But in Dunwall, everything can come crashing down in the blink of an eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stride

Lizzy Stride first heard of Black Sally when she was a child. Green-eyed, black-haired. And the meanest, most respected gang leader in all of Gristol. What was a twelve year old girl, poor and living off scraps on the streets, not to love about a reputation like that?

Lizzy grew, in years and in brutality, with the tales of Black Sally as her guide. She rounded up men and women of similar strife, and formed a gang worthy of as much fear and respect as Black Sally’s. No one had crossed her, so no one would cross Lizzy either. She’d proven herself, and they were all loyal to her. So she thought. Then along came Edgar fucking Wakefield.

Lizzy shuffled on her knees. Her arms were outstretched in the cuffs, and they ached like the Void. Everything ached. Lizzy wished she could reach to scratch her nose.

She could still taste iron. Officer Harper’s maimed finger was still on the floor of her cell. The guard now had a newfound respect for the number nine, and less of an attitude problem. He’d come in to make her talk, and left howling. Lizzy smiled, baring her fangs. At least she’d taken a few fingers. She regretted being stuck here though, before having the chance to gouge Edgar’s eyes from his skull. She always thought she’d die on the Undine, or maybe like Black Sally, in a blaze of glory. Lizzy scoffed. Childish thinking.

She could hear Barrister Timsh in C Block below. Begging the guards to let him go, insisting that they’d made a mistake and that they’d pay for it. Lizzy wished she could take one of his fingers, or maybe his tongue. Maybe then he’d shut the fuck up.

She drifted from consciousness, for Outsider knew how long.

“Wake up, Lizzy.”

The voice was gruff, and close. Since when did interrogations start in the middle of the night?

Lizzy shook herself and tried to back away in the cuffs. “I’m not telling you shit–”

She cut herself off, and blinked a few times. An Overseer. Lizzy narrowed her eyes. Not a chance. Overseers didn’t use wristbows; one was strapped to this man’s glove. She peered behind him. A figure stood watch at the cell door. All Lizzy could make out of him was his dark clothes and dark hair.

She licked her lips, now curious. “Who?”

“Daud.”

Lizzy snorted. That made more sense. “Is that right.”

She had plenty of enemies, and Daud’s men had no ties of loyalty to Lizzy or her gang. Sure, they were alright with each other, might even be considered friends in some folks’ definitions. That wouldn’t stop Daud from accepting a hit on her. If Edgar had paid him to come...

“Whoever sent you, I’ll pay double.”

“I’ve come to break you out. You can owe me the favour.”

There it was. There was always a fucking price with these assassins. “What kind of favour?”

“Does it matter?” Daud asked, voice tinny under the ugly golden mask. “You’ll be dead in another day here.”

Lizzy managed an unimpressed expression. She was stupid enough to have trusted Edgar, but not stupid enough to blindly accept help when it was offered. Especially with a price attached. At least not without knowing the details. “What kind,” she grated out.

“It’s just a boat trip, upriver.” Daud sounded deceptively innocent. Lizzy didn’t like it. “Past the blockades.”

“Then you’re outta luck,” Lizzy replied, having to wet her lips again. Fuck, she couldn’t remember when she’d last had a drink. “My boat, the Undine, now belongs to someone else. My second in command double-crossed me and took it.” She grit her fangs, adding, “A little shit named Edgar Wakefield.”

“It’s a situation I’m familiar with.”

Lizzy frowned at Daud’s bitter tone, and glanced around him again, at the figure by the cell door. It definitely wasn’t Lurk. Lizzy was tempted to ask, but didn’t.

“Can you walk?”

Lizzy smirked. “Get me outta this damn thing and I’ll fly. I can pay you to get rid of Wakefield.” The thought of being able to get revenge on Edgar after all banished a little of the numbness from her legs.

“It’ll be my pleasure,” Daud answered.

“There’s a guard coming,” the figure at the door spoke up, voice low. Recognition vaguely surfaced at the sound of him, but Lizzy’s head felt heavy and she couldn’t grasp at it.

Daud nodded his companion’s way, and pulled the lever attached to Lizzy’s cuffs. “Come on.”

The cuffs clanged open, and Lizzy had to catch herself before her face hit the floor. She got to her feet, wobbly, and felt herself sway for a few moments. The numbness was quickly returning and her stomach heaved.

“Daud... I think...” Lizzy dropped back onto her knees, and the cell went dark.

She woke in blurry intervals, more conscious to the noise around her than the sight. Voices mostly. Hounds barking sometimes. Daud’s voice distinguished itself now and again. Lizzy was distantly aware of the mattress beneath her back; warm, supporting her aching bones. Days in Coldridge, kneeled in those cuffs, had almost driven her crazy.

When Lizzy woke properly, there was someone beside her. Too close beside her. She snatched at their wrist.

The Whaler didn’t flinch. He jerked his head towards the door. “Tell him she’s awake.”

Another Whaler, blonde and straight-backed, nodded and left the room.

The Whaler Lizzy had grabbed calmly dropped the steaming mug on the table beside her bed. Lizzy released him, her tension easing. She was in Rudshore, on neutral turf. She recognised the clinical layout of their infirmary.

“Fuck,” she groaned. Her mouth tasted sour. “How long was I out?”

“A week.” It was the same voice from Coldridge. Daud’s companion.

“I know you.”

“We met on the Pratchett job.”

Now Lizzy remembered. A few years ago, she’d caught word of that Pratchett, a prissy aristocrat who owned a food packaging company, had some valuable goods in his safe. She’d contacted Daud to get one of his men onto it, and he’d sent her this one. He’d gotten in and out with the goods in less than an hour.

“Attano, right?”

The Whaler gave a blunt nod.

“You barely said two words back then, either,” Lizzy smirked. “Grown into quite the pretty boy, haven’t you?”

“If you say so.” Attano perched on the windowsill, and nudged the mug with the tip of his boot.

Lizzy pushed herself sitting with some difficulty, then took the drink between her hands. She coughed down the first sip. “The fuck is in this?”

“Elixir. Hemlock oil. Hagfish eggs.”

“Shit,” Lizzy grimaced. “You could’ve lied.”

“You asked,” Attano replied.

She took the rest down, her eyes screwed shut until the last gulp. She slammed the mug down. “Ungh. The shit they serve in Coldridge is better than that.”

“Go back if you want.”

Lizzy sneered at him, then glanced down when she saw something wagging near Attano’s perch. A tail, and the wolfhound attached to it was curled up beneath the window. Attano was absently scratching the creature’s back with one of his boots.

“I see Daud’s been branching out on his recruits,” Lizzy commented, holding her hand out to the beast. It cocked its head up and sniffed her fingers, then huffed and returned its head between its paws to snooze. “Having trouble finding decent humans these days?”

Attano hummed, but didn’t answer her. “Thought you’d want to know. Your ship’s still in Draper’s Ward.”

Lizzy sighed in relief. “Thank fuck. I expected that shit to take it to another harbour.”

“Wakefield?”

“Yeah. Double-crossing me, that miserable fuck. When I get my hands on him, he’s gonna wish he killed me.”

Lizzy muttered a few more threats and curses, then examined the Whaler. Same resting glare she’d seen last time. He was obviously Serkonan; bronze-hued skin and dark eyes. If he had a pair of tits, Lizzy would certainly be interested. As it were, he was pretty enough to look at.

She gestured to his jaw. A nasty line of burns ran along it. “What happened there?”

“Overseers.”

When nothing more was said, Lizzy sniggered. “Alright, dark and mysterious. Have it your way.”

Attano gave something akin to a smile; a handsome quirk at the corner of his mouth, and then it was gone. He slid from the windowsill, and the wolfhound’s head snapped up at the movement. “Daud wants to talk to you.”

“I don’t know, Attano, you’ve talked my ear off so far,” she teased. “Not sure I’ll be able to handle any more.”

“Nice to see you, Stride.” Attano strode to the infirmary doors, and the wolfhound trotted after him.

Lizzy watched him go, eyes unashamedly trained on his retreating backside. Not bad at all, she decided. Almost as good as Lurk’s.

The hallway outside the infirmary was dark, and it took Lizzy a moment to identify the figure that stopped Attano in his tracks. He and Daud were stood talking, close enough to one another for Lizzy to be intrigued. She watched Daud trace a thumb over Attano’s jaw, over the burns. The wolfhound panted up at them, oblivious. Their silhouettes closed the distance and their foreheads touched briefly, before Attano sidestepped him and disappeared from view. Daud’s was gaze fixed on him for a few moments, and then he entered the infirmary.

Lizzy recovered from the mild bout of surprise, and bared a grin. “Good to see you out of those Overseer rags, Daud,” she greeted.

“Good to see you not drooling on the pillow, Stride.” Daud took a seat on the neighbouring infirmary bed. “How are you feeling?”

Lizzy gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Ask me when I have my crew back, and Edgar Wakefield’s at the bottom of the ocean with cinderblocks tied to his ankles. Ask me again then.”

“Understood.” Daud discretely checked that the mug of elixir, hemlock oil and hagfish spawn had been drank. He looked satisfied to see that it had.

Lizzy smirked. “Eager for me to be fighting fit again?”

“I need that boat.”

“What a fucking coincidence. I need it too.” Lizzy hissed a sigh, then slumped back against the bed railings behind her.

She must have looked as pitiful as she felt, because Daud said, “You don’t need to pay me. I’ll get rid of Wakefield. So long as you’re willing to take your ship past Brigmore Manor once he’s been dealt with.”

Lizzy was grateful for it, but she raised an eyebrow. “Brigmore Manor, huh? Place has been abandoned for years. What do you expect to find there?”

“Witches. I want them gone.”

No more was added. Lizzy shook her head, “You’re as talkative as that pretty boy of yours, aren’t you.” When Daud’s shoulders became tense, Lizzy’s grin widened. “So how long you been shacking up together? I’ve never seen you hung up on someone before.”

Daud scowled and didn’t answer.

“Void. You’re perfect for each other,” Lizzy sniggered. “Is he your new second?”

“No. Thomas is.”

“The blonde one? Yeah, I know Thomas.” Lizzie pursed her lips, and risked asking this time. “What happened to Lurk?”

There was remorse behind Daud’s normally cold eyes, but his expression remained hard. “Same thing that happened between you and Wakefield.”

“Shit. Sorry to hear that.” Lizzy was. Truly. When someone you trust betrayed you, it hurt more than a pistol shot to the knee caps. “So Lurk’s where exactly?”

Daud granted her an unamused expression.

Lizzy held up her hands. “What?”

“I know why you’re asking. You were never subtle around her.”

Lizzy grinned, shark-like. “So I liked the woman, shoot me for it.”

Daud huffed. “I don’t know where she is. I sent her away, told her not to come back.”

“Should’ve sent her my way,” Lizzy muttered. She decided to change the subject, before Daud throttled her with something. “Attano said the Undine’s still in Draper’s Ward.”

“I’ve got people watching over it. If Wakefield tries to ship out somewhere else, they’ll move in.”

“I appreciate it. I mean, I get that you need it, that’s why you’re doing it,” Lizzy added. “But I do appreciate it. Thanks.”

Daud grunted an acknowledgement.

“So how long till I can get outta this pile of rubble you call home?”

A Whaler walked in, wearing a bloodstained apron over his industrial suit. He shot Lizzy a worryingly polite smile.

Daud motioned him over. “I’m leaving that to my expert here. Lizzy, Montgomery. I’ll leave you in his hands.”

Daud stood, and Lizzy eyed Montgomery cautiously. She glanced down at the mug in his hands. “Tell me that’s not more of that hagfish shite.”

Montgomery’s smile quirked wider and he handed the mug to her.

“Enjoy.” Daud’s smirk was infuriating as he walked to the doors.

Lizzy glowered and snatched the mug from Montgomery’s hands. “Fucking Whalers,” she mumbled, taking a tentative sip and shuddering. “This is worse than the last fucking lot.”

“Drink up, Stride,” Daud called back, waving to her over his shoulder.

“Fuck you, Daud.” Lizzy finished the drink with no more complaints.

Montgomery started talking about exercises and foods that would speed her recovery, but Lizzy was only half listening. She smiled; she’d get her crew, Edgar would be food for the hagfish, and she’d be back out on the water soon. Black Sally had died in a fire, so the story went. Burned alive because she’d chosen the wrong allies. Looking around at the Whalers bustling past the infirmary, and listening vaguely to Montgomery’s yapping, Lizzy decided that Black Sally could’ve learned a thing or two from her.

____________________________________

Corvo held out his hand, palm down, fingers straight, and the wolfhound sat obediently.

“Stay,” he ordered, taking steady steps back until there was some distance between them. The wolfhound panted at him, and Corvo could sense its anticipation to follow. He kept his hand outstretched.

Then he made a fist, and a muddy yellow cloud appeared around the hound’s head. Corvo’s mark flashed, and a voice whispered in his head. His vision refocused; the office had become black and white, and he felt four legs beneath him. Corvo chased his own tail, victorious, his new paws scratching quietly on the floorboards.

When the double doors opened, he bounded over. He pounced at Daud, making the man curse and push him away. “Corvo, I swear to the Void. You have to stop possessing these flea bags.”

Corvo curled around his legs, and he felt Daud waver and scratch his ear. Corvo purred into it, and then trotted back to the desk. His back hit the floor when he and the wolfhound’s minds disconnected. The pull of the separation still made him lose his balance, even after several days of practise.

“Graceful.” Daud stood over him and offered a hand. Corvo took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“It’s lasting longer. I can choose when to end the power now.” Corvo rubbed his temples, which were quickly starting to throb. “Still getting used to it.”

“Void, the rats were one thing,” Daud muttered irritably, “now hounds? What’s next. People?”

Corvo cocked his head, considering.

Daud glowered. “No.”

“It might work–”

“No,” he repeated firmly.

Corvo relented, and pet the hound when it jumped up at him.

“Furry wastes of space,” Daud bit out, shoving the beast away when it tried to jump at him instead. He nudged Corvo’s shoulder, “They listen to you. Tell him to get out of here. They’re not allowed in the office.”

“She.”

Daud narrowed his eyes.

“This one’s a she.” Corvo scratched the hound under her chin, and the beast melted against him. “Leonid called her Esma. She keeps trying to hump all the furniture.”

“I don’t care if she’s Lady fucking Boyle herself. She’ll be turned into a coat if she stays in here.”

Corvo shooed the hound outside. She went without complaint and began to chase a rat down the hallway.

“You’re not a dog person, are you,” Corvo discerned.

“All they do is make a mess.”

“They’re good lookouts.”

Daud grumbled something, but Corvo knew he couldn’t deny it. Since they’d captured the beasts, Rudshore had never felt safer. Never seen so few rats, either.

Daud went to lean on the desk and he ran a hand over his face wearily. Corvo stood in front of him and tugged Daud’s hand back down to inspect the tired lines and dark shadows under his eyes. “Go to bed.”

“Too much to plan.”

“Stride won’t recover for a few days more,” Corvo pointed out. “And if something goes wrong with the Undine, we have Samuel to take us to Brigmore. Plan B, you said yourself.”

Daud shook his head. “I’m starting to think that’s not a good idea. Samuel’s riverboat only fits three people. Stride’s ship can take more men.”

“The two of us just made it through Coldridge. What’s Brigmore Manor compared to that?”

“I admire your resolve,” Daud admitted. Corvo leaned on the desk beside him and laid his head on Daud’s shoulder. He felt Daud’s chin rest on top of his hair. “It irritates the shit out of me, but I admire it.”

“Everything irritates you.”

“You, in particular.” Corvo preened, and settled closer. “I’ve been to Brigmore Manor before, Corvo, years before I found you. Combined with Delilah’s coven and those statues she makes, I don’t expect the two of us alone to get as far as the front door. Delilah has her followers, and we need the men in case a fight breaks out. Therefore, we need Stride’s ship to bring them with us.”

Corvo hummed. “Do you think Delilah has the Arcane Bond, like you?”

“Something similar, at least,” Daud answered. “That black-eyed bastard would find it tedious, I imagine, if we all possessed the same abilities. Why do you think yours differ so much from mine.”

Corvo examined the mark on his left hand. It still felt strange, having different powers than those he’d been given through the Bond with Daud. His tethering had been replaced with a forceful blast of air. His old and new powers seemed to parallel each other. Pull and push.

Corvo glanced up when Daud gave a jaw-cracking yawn. “Go to bed.”

“I’m fine–” Another yawn cut him off.

“If you say you’re fine again, I’ll put a sleep dart in your neck and leave you to sleep where you fall.” Daud’s words to him, months ago, while Corvo was still on Delilah’s trail.

Daud obviously recalled his own threat. “I sometimes question who’s really in charge around here,” he muttered. “Very well. I’ll go.”

“Good.”

“On the condition you join me. You’ve been awake as long as I have.”

Corvo frowned. “Thought you wanted the plans finished.”

“You need to rest too. The plans can wait.”

Corvo let himself be taken towards the stairs. Daud hadn’t allowed him from his bed since he’d first slept there. Corvo speculated how long it would take for the men in his dorm – Quinn and Arden and the others – to become suspicious of his absence and start asking questions. That was, unless they had already noticed and were keeping their comments to themselves. But Corvo doubted that was the case. Arden didn’t have that much self-control.

“We’re resting.”

Daud raised an eyebrow at him, as they took the stairs to the bedroom. “I’m aware.”

 _“Just_ resting,” Corvo repeated.

Daud nodded. “Agreed.”

Corvo had rolled his eyes when Jordan and Galia first got together. They hadn’t been able to spend a minute apart, or without touching, or without having one another in sight, and Corvo hadn’t understood why. He preferred being alone. If he was around someone for long enough, he felt constricted, confined, and he needed space for his energy to recharge.

He understood now.

 _Just resting_ became a distant idea quickly, just as it had done for the last week or so. Soon enough, the two of them were as closely intertwined as possible.

"Corvo–" Daud rumbled into Corvo’s flesh.

How long since they had come upstairs? Half an hour? An hour? The adrenaline from Coldridge was still making his veins pulse. Corvo was so hard that it ached, and Daud’s tongue was making him shiver. "Daud– I need you–"

Daud licked up to his tailbone, then back down again. Corvo was lightheaded, drunk. Daud didn't reply. He seemed to be drunk himself, his groans muffled. Corvo was biting the sheets.

After a few more licks, Daud pulled away, reaching for the oil. "Lie on your back."

Corvo obeyed, his eyes glazed. Daud bent down to kiss him as he slicked oil on them both, then eased into him.

Corvo groaned, fingers and legs curling around him, head buried beneath his chin. His hands dug into Daud's back, nails raking down his shoulder blades, and Corvo felt tight and tense around him as they thrust together. Daud bit into his skin, sucking hard, teeth replacing the marks that were steadily fading from last night, and the night before, and the night before.

"Fuck–" Corvo’s hand fisted into Daud’s scalp, curling his fingers through his hair, pulling hard. His head tilted back, his hips rising to meet him, thrust for thrust.

Daud deepened the angle. "Fuck– You feel so good–”

The words echoed in Corvo's head. Completely giddy, he clung tighter, teeth pinching the skin between Daud’s neck and strong shoulder. His wrists tingled from where Daud had earlier pinned them to the pillow, and his neck stung from the bites, and Corvo wasn’t imagining any of it, Daud was really with him, breathing curses against him and Corvo still couldn’t accept it was real...

"Don’t stop–" Corvo breathed, more a plead than an order. Their lips met, hands roughly moving across each other's bodies, mirroring each other's expressions, each other's cries. That glow began building deep inside him, and his grip on Daud tightened even further. "Oh fuck– _Fuck,_ Daud, I’m–"

Daud reached a hand between them to touch him, and he rose to his knees, watching and thrusting deeper as he worked him. Gorgeous, he was so gorgeous; usually neat hair in disarray, chest gleaming with sweat, those flexing muscles. His abdomen was clenching and jerking, his eyes fixed on Corvo’s writhing form.

"Daud–" Corvo was gasping his name every few breaths. "Fuck, oh _fuck–"_ Corvo cried out, his head tilted back into the pillow, his back arching. He shuddered in waves, and Daud slammed the last few thrusts hard, before he, too, let himself go. He fell onto Corvo, sprawled out over him, as everything around them disappeared in the rush.

Corvo breathed deeply. He smoothed the damp strands back from Daud’s forehead, and pressed his lips there. Daud kept running the tip of his tongue over the dark bruises on Corvo’s neck; it was a habit of his, Corvo had noticed. He bared his neck slightly, granting the man better access. “We’ll never get anything done at this rate.”

“No. I doubt we will,” Daud agreed, voice roughened and thick from his groans. The ruined sound of it made goosebumps crawl across Corvo’s skin in pleasure. “I accuse the pitiful restraint I have when it comes to you.”

Corvo grinned; a common occurrence lately, he realized. Fuck, he really was turning into Jordan. Jordan had been a stoic bastard too, before he’d met Galia. Now a day didn’t go by without seeing a flash of his teeth. Corvo quickly tamed the grin into something less obvious.

Daud’s teeth pulled at a particularly deep bruise.

“The men will see them.”

“Let them see.” Daud nipped again, and again, slowly, unhurried. It felt reverent. “They’re undoubtedly talking about us anyway. Does it bother you?”

Corvo was surprised by the discomfort in Daud’s voice. “No. I wondered if it bothered you.”

“It doesn’t,” Daud assured. He sounded relieved by Corvo's answer.

Corvo felt himself relax too. They had been avoiding the topic of the others knowing about them for days, but it wasn’t like either of them had been subtle. Corvo knew that Rulfio knew; the sly, teasing look the bastard kept shooting him when they passed each other around the Chamber. Corvo couldn’t find it in himself to bite out a threat at him though. Despite Delilah still at large and Dunwall slowly sinking into turmoil, he hadn’t felt this happy since Serkonos. He knew it was selfish; there were other people suffering, while he lay sated with the love of his life. But when Daud took his chin and angled him down for a kiss, Corvo couldn’t find the heart to care.

“Sleep,” Daud ordered. “As soon as Stride recovers, we’ll make for Draper’s Ward. See what we can do about Wakefield and the Undine. I don’t expect we’ll get much time to rest once we get started.”

 _Or much time together_ , Corvo thought. Once they’d discovered what Delilah was planning, and had prevented it, they’d have all the time in the world. Corvo let that knowledge comfort him, and he closed his eyes. He quickly started to drift. He felt like he was floating, weightless, with only Daud’s arms holding him grounded.

Corvo wandered the Void every night now, only recalling certain things when he woke. That night, he saw a young girl surrounded by crayons and flowers. Her drawing was of two men. Twins. One dressed in black, one in white. Before proper sleep took him, Corvo had one thought.

_Protect her_


	2. The Black Book - Part 1

Corvo knew it was Emily he saw. He didn’t forget faces easily, and considering hers was scrawled on every poster from Slaughterhouse Row to the Old Port District, the little girl was impossible to mistake. She was in the Void every night, drawing, singing to herself. Corvo never spoke to her. They sat in silence and drew together. Corvo was a dreadful artist, he had discovered.

Each time he woke up, he wondered if she was real. He suspected not. She was most likely just a spectre of the Outsider’s domain, like everything else he saw there. But he knew he saw her for a reason, and it felt important.

_Protect her_

Corvo’s fingers traced the mark on Daud’s left hand. They sat perched on the window ledge of Daud’s bedroom; Corvo nestled between his legs as the older man leant back against the frame, his chest pressed to Corvo’s back. It was late, and the moon was full, its silver light casting a ghostly glow over the District outside.

Corvo couldn’t keep this to himself any longer. Stride had recovered, and they were going to Draper’s Ward at sunrise.

“I’m not coming with you tomorrow.”

He felt Daud huff into his hair. “And why is that?”

“I have to go back to Holger Square.”

Daud’s chest suddenly stopped rising and falling against him. His hold on Corvo tightened. “This is about what you told me. About what you’ve been seeing in the Void.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not going back to the Office.”

Corvo half turned his head. “Daud–”

“I said no.”

Corvo calmly stepped down from the ledge and turned to face him. Daud’s eyes were deceptively cold, but Corvo knew him better than that. There was fear there, too. Corvo took his face in his hands. “Will you listen to me?”

Daud didn’t answer, but didn’t refuse him.

“While I was captured there, I heard the Overseers talking about Campbell’s black book.”

“And you think it will have Emily’s location inside,” Daud finished for him. “So you’ve said.”

Corvo ignored his tone. “Campbell was involved in Jessamine’s murder, so he knew where Emily was taken. He wrote his book in code, but it should be easy to decipher once I bring it here.”

Daud’s jaw was tense in his hands. “Why is that girl so important to you?”

“I don’t know.” He truly didn’t. All Corvo knew was the thought of Emily alone and afraid had been playing on his mind for days, and he had to start doing something about it. “I wish I did, because it would give us both a piece of mind. But this is important to me. I have to get that book.”

“You branded Campbell. Everyone is looking for you,” Daud reminded him. “Going back would be foolish. And Campbell isn’t permitted in Holger Square anymore. He was cast out as a heretic, no one knows where he is. If this book of yours belongs to him, it will be impossible to track down.”

“He’ll have been stripped of his possessions before they banished him,” Corvo countered. “The book should still be close to the Office–”

Daud tugged him forward and cut him off with a kiss. Corvo allowed it, pressing closer. When he pulled back, Daud looked a mix of awed and annoyed.

“You’re too intelligent for your own good.” He brushed his thumb over Corvo’s jaw. “You’re not going back there. I won’t allow it.”

“Why?” Corvo challenged.

“The non personal argument. I need all the men focused and ready for Brigmore. There’s no time to stray onto other things, not now.”

“That’s why I have to get the book. I’ll be distracted if I leave this until after Brigmore. Once I get it, I’ll decipher it after we’ve dealt with Delilah. I just have to get it first. As closure.” At Daud’s irritable growl, Corvo closed the distance, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He felt Daud’s arms grudgingly wrap around him. “What’s the personal argument?”

It amazed Corvo how, in the space of a second, Daud could turn from growling to nuzzling into his neck like a needy wolfhound. “I can’t see you taken away again.”

Corvo swallowed, and held him tighter. “Nothing could keep me from you. I’ll come back, just like last time.” He took Daud’s face in his hands again. “I’m asking you to trust me.”

“I do trust you. It’s the Overseers I don’t trust.”

“I can handle them,” Corvo assured. “And I won’t be seen. I never am.”

Daud gave a grunt. “I’ll come with you, then.”

“No. You have to go to Draper’s Ward.” And Daud had enough on his mind already; the Undine, Brigmore Manor, Delilah. Probably still Billie and the six men they lost in the Overseer raid. Emily and the black book were Corvo’s burden for now. Daud didn’t need another thing to concern himself with. “You need to get Lizzy’s boat, and I need to get the book. I’ll meet you at the Undine once I’m done, and we can leave for Brigmore.”

Daud scowled up at him from the window ledge. “You’ll go to Holger Square no matter how this conversation ends, won’t you. Whether I allow it or not.” It wasn’t a question. Eventually, Daud gave a resigning sigh. “Go.”

Corvo kissed the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Mm-hm.”

Another kiss. “I’ll be careful.”

“Hm.”

Corvo smiled against him. “I lo–” He cut himself off swiftly, eyes widening. He had almost said it. Those words hadn’t passed his lips in ten years, and he’d almost said them unconsciously. His chest ached, but he swallowed it down. “I’ll leave at first light. Should give me time to make it to Draper’s Ward before sundown.”

Daud grumbled something unintelligible, and let Corvo settle back to his position on the window ledge. “If I hear word tomorrow of you being arrested again, I’ll forget about Brigmore and come to the Office instead, to kill you myself.”

“You won’t.”

“Kill you myself? I assure you, I will.”

“I meant you won’t hear of my arrest.”

Daud mumbled against the back of his shoulder. “Good.”

Corvo lay back against his chest, and Daud’s arms circled him again. Corvo watched the clouds drift and cover the moon, and he began to drift himself soon after. He vaguely remembered Daud carrying him to the bed before he fell asleep.

In the Void, he sat beside Emily and inspected her latest drawing. A man with dark hair, with a black object in his hand. Campbell’s black book. Emily turned her head to Corvo, and smiled.

***

He woke early, and stumbled around getting ready. He used to be a morning person before he’d started sharing Daud’s bed. Mornings were now his enemy. The struggle to get up and remove himself from the man’s arms became more of a feat each time.

Boat was the fastest way to travel in Dunwall, so Corvo had gone to find Samuel. He was in the kitchen with the other men. Quinn had been right; the boatman belonged in Rudshore. He fit right in. He agreed to take Corvo to Holger Square, and didn’t even ask his reasons.

Corvo returned to the office before he left. Daud didn’t bid him goodbye. They didn’t even touch. Corvo only realized why when he and Samuel were halfway across Wrenhaven. Each touch or goodbye could have been the last. Corvo knew it wouldn’t have been; he was confident he’d make it out of Holger Square intact. But Daud’s reasoning landed him with a lump in his throat the entire way to the Distillery District.

The Back Yard came into view, and as Samuel steered the boat near land, Corvo hopped onto the docks.

“Thanks for this.”

The boatman, as Corvo had expected, waved him off. “Not a problem. I’m happy to do it.”

“Anyone told you you’re too agreeable?”

Samuel chuckled. “You’re the first person I’ve met who’s ever complained about it.”

Corvo felt his cheeks flush. “I’m not complaining, I just–”

Samuel held up a hand, still smiling. “I know, sir. I was just teasing.” He peered up at the high wall leading up to the Back Yard. “Watch yourself here, Corvo. Since Campbell’s branding, I imagine the Overseers are on high alert.”

“Yeah.” Corvo examined the boatman. No sword, no protective clothing. A pistol that looked like it had seen the beginning of time. “Promise me you’ll be okay, waiting here.”

Samuel chuckled again. “Don’t worry, sir. You don’t get to be my age without having a trick or two up your sleeve. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Corvo nodded, and leapt up to the chain that scaled the height of the wall. The Back Yard looked much different in the day. When he was last here, it had been grim and raining. It looked almost pleasant when the morning sun was on it.

The Office itself still looked like every heretic’s nightmare. There were twice the regular amount of Overseer’s patrolling the courtyard and the streets. There were no Watch Guards, as far as Corvo could see. He wasn’t surprised. An investigation into Curnow’s visit with Campbell had been carried out, and when traces of Tyvian poison had been found in the guard Captain’s wine glass, he had ordered his men to stay away from the Overseers. At least until some kind of peace could be reached between their factions. He was a smart man. Corvo still felt bad about putting him in the trash bin.

Corvo used one of the upper windows to get inside the Office. If Campbell’s black book was still here, it would be with his confiscated possessions. Corvo started in the High Overseer’s personal chambers. The rooms were lavish, and everything in them looked fragile and expensive. There was nothing there about the book.

Nothing on the entire top level, in fact. Descending to the ground floor, Corvo passed above an Overseer; slumped down on the stairs. He was reading a letter, and the parchment was crumpled, as though it had been read a hundred times. Curiosity urged him to pause, and Corvo vaguely made out the words _last night_ and _Darion_. Corvo felt an odd twinge of sympathy; the Overseer looked sad, staring down longingly at the paper, his eyes retracing the words again and again. Corvo moved on.

In the foyer, another Overseer was giving a sermon to a group of citizens; zealously reciting the strictures and warning them of the Outsider’s influence. Corvo stopped to perch on one of the overhead lights, noticing a pair of Overseer’s peer at the crowd, and then, seeing they were distracted, slip unnoticed through a door. Suspicious. Corvo followed them. Their voices echoed down the stairs.

“This is foolish, Martin,” one of them hissed.

“I need that book,” the other, Martin, bit back. “It has to be here. I told you, Campbell’s sanctum holds all his most prized possessions.”

“And I told you, brother, that Campbell kept the book on his person at all times.” As they came to a small bust of Holger on one of the walls, the Overseer checked over his shoulder just as Corvo managed to duck behind a crate. “We shouldn’t be down here. You’re going to get me killed.”

“Once I have that book, no one will be able to touch us,” Martin said. “Have faith, brother Jasper. It will be here.” He pressed the bust’s right eye, and the wall beside it slid open to reveal a hidden room. “Come on.”

Martin walked inside, Jasper tentatively following. Corvo went behind them, staying low and in the darker spots of the room. Campbell’s private sanctum looked much like his private chambers; how a Lord might live, not a man of the faith. Corvo was glad he’d branded the man.

The Overseer pair searched around for a while, Martin becoming more and more frustrated. “It must be here,” he muttered sharply. “Where else could it have gone?”

“I told you,” Jasper repeated, exasperated, “that once an Overseer is branded, their possessions are given to the poor as an offering. Campbell’s book was on his person, so it was probably given to the poor along with everything else he was wearing. It was probably in his coat. You know our ways better than anyone, so I don’t see why we’re risking our lives down here for a blasted book.”

Martin muttered a curse. “You were at the offering. Did you see who took Campbell’s clothes?”

“I don’t know,” Jasper whined, glancing nervously to the entrance. “Some blind old woman made off with the coat. Kept muttering to herself about birds or something, what does it matter? The book isn’t here, now can we please leave this place now?”

Craning to listen, Corvo accidently knocked an empty wine bottle from one of the surfaces. It smashed.

Both Overseers flinched.

“Did you hear that?” Jasper hissed. “Let’s get out of here.”

Martin followed him, the two of them making a swift exit. Corvo managed to stay out of sight until they were gone.

Once he heard their fleeing footsteps disappear, he straightened up. He didn’t waste time searching the sanctum; that Martin was a thorough snoop. The book wasn’t here. Corvo glared, preferring to have overheard the conversation when he wasn’t thirty feet below ground. It took him a while to sneak back to ground level and outside again.

If the Office had donated Campbell’s possessions to the public, Corvo knew where to go to first to find that coat.

“Assassin,” Griff greeted, allowing Corvo into his shop. He peered around outside, then swiftly closed the door. “Haven’t seen you in these parts since you were asking after that woman. What was her name again? Danila? Deanna?”

“Delilah.”

“Ah, yes. How went the search?”

Corvo wondered if his answering expression was as sour as it felt.

Griff bustled around the shelves, manoeuvring his merchandise for a few moments, before granting Corvo his full attention. “What can I do for you this time?”

“Heard that Campbell’s stuff was given away. After his branding.”

“Indeed it was. I went along to see for myself.”

“I thought you might have.” Corvo picked up a stun mine from one of the tables, tempted to pocket it. He put it back down. He had no coin to pay the man. “Remember seeing a woman? Old. Talked about birds.”

Griff pursed his lips. “Mm, yes. Hard to miss, that Granny Rags. People tend to avoid her where they can, apart from those kids on Endoria Street. Rowdy bunch, that lot.”

“She take Campbell’s coat?”

“I believe so,” Griff answered. “Why the interest? Seems a little out of sorts, a heretic after an Overseer’s old coat.”

Corvo didn’t answer. He head back for the door. “Where does she live?”

“Now wait just a minute,” Griff warned, folding his arms. “You can’t expect me to give you more information for nothing. I’m a business man.”

Corvo tossed him a few cans of choke dust. “The address.”

Griff examined the gear, then nodded, satisfied. “These’ll fetch a good price. Granny Rags lives opposite the Distillery. Just go on through the arch at the end of the street.”

Corvo left the scavenger to it. He passed by the whisky Distillery, and found the old woman out on her balcony, throwing dented pans and crockery down onto the street.

“No, that’s not a nice thing,” she griped to herself. “Just garbage. Garbage, garbage, garbage, garbage, garbage, all of it.”

Corvo cocked his jaw, examining her. Worn and tattered clothes, but he suspected they once belonged to nobility. White eyes. Blind.

When she retreated inside, Corvo blinked onto the balcony behind her. She was gone. Using dark vision, he saw her silhouette appear on the floor below. He frowned. No one moved that fast without powers like his. Corvo kept a hand on his blade and went downstairs.

The house was as rundown as Rudshore; piles of rubble in corners, moss growing on the walls. Campbell’s blood-red coat distinguished itself in the midst of it, hanging over the back of a chair.

Granny Rags was at the sink. “I told you, the knives go on the left. They’ve always gone on the left,” she muttered. “You never listen.”

Her back was turned. As long as Corvo was silent, he could get the coat and leave unnoticed. He crept closer. The old woman’s head perked up.

“Dear?”

Corvo stopped. He hadn’t made a sound.

Granny Rags began to face him, reaching out a gloved hand. “Is that you, my dear husband?”

Corvo edged back, her fingers almost grazing his face.

She withdrew her hand and sighed, shaking her head. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be. You’re not him. No, not him at all.”

This close, Corvo took in her appearance. She was hunched over, her arms pulled close to her sides and her hands dangling slightly. Like a rat, stood on its hind legs. The makeup on her face was hazardous; askew lipstick and smudged eyeshadow. It made her look older, more haggard.

“Have _you_ seen him?” Granny Rags asked excitedly. “The handsome one, with the beautiful dark eyes. He said you’d come. Come for the coat. He asked me to fetch it, and keep it safe for you.” She took Corvo’s arm and tugged him towards the door beside the sink. “Hurry along now. You’re here. You’ve arrived, after all this waiting. You’ve kept me waiting, dear. Not him, though. Not my love, no, no, no. Don’t keep him waiting.”

Corvo was gently ushered through the door, and it creaked closed behind him. His instincts told him to barge back through, take the coat and run. But his curiosity had him descending the steps into the garden. The way down was lit by the eerie purple glow of lanterns. Around the corner was a shrine, wires and rich fabrics thrown together to create it. The Outsider hovered above the ground in front of it. The centrepiece.

He titled his head. **“Hello, Corvo.”**

Corvo nodded a greeting, and the Outsider beckoned him closer. Corvo complied, coming to a halt with a few steps still between them.

**“How are you enjoying my mark?”**

Corvo looked down at it. “It’s different.”

 **“To the powers Daud’s Arcane Bond granted you. Yes. You’re not like the others, Corvo, those who blindly chase orders. You stop and listen when other men might shout in rage. You watch instead of striking. You let the High Overseer live. I’m older than the rocks this city was built on. And even I didn’t see that coming.”** The Outsider placed a finger under his chin and turned it to the side, exposing the burns on his jaw. His black eyes wandered there. **“You’re far too interesting to possess the same gifts as those who follow Daud.”**

Corvo didn’t have an answer for that. The Outsider’s cold fingers were beginning to give him goosebumps.

**“And how you and Daud have rekindled yourselves, since your return from the ‘dead’. Is it everything you hoped it would be, Corvo?”**

Corvo sharply withdrew from his grasp. He glared, but his reserve only seemed to fascinate the being more.

**“Don’t be alarmed. I know your thoughts. So eager to return to his arms.”**

“Stay out of my head.”

A smile. **“I see what’s in Daud’s head too. I see it even as we speak.”** He leaned forward slightly. **“Would you like to know what he’s thinking, right this moment?”**

Corvo hated himself for pausing. Of course he wanted to know. But he had no right to. “No.” He took another wary step back to emphasise his point. “Is there a reason I’m here, or did you just want to screw around with me. Daud warned me that was something you enjoyed.”

The Outsider remained unfazed by his iciness. He reclined back against the shrine, looking up at the sky between the buildings either side of the small garden. **“You’re here to heed my warning. Be careful, Corvo. They call her Granny Rags,”** he said, motioning up the stairs, to the house. **“An Emperor asked for her hand once, but she made a different choice.”**

Corvo thought back to the way Granny Rags had moved; fast, in a split second, from the balcony to the kitchen. “She’s like me.”

 **“Indeed.”** The Outsider, either oblivious or uncaring of Corvo’s aloofness, took his left hand and forced Corvo to take a step closer to him. **“She is not to be underestimated,”** he cautioned, examining Corvo’s fingers as he spread them between his own. **“I’d do as she asks of you, dear Corvo. Your fight will be difficult enough, as you’ve already made an enemy of Delilah. You don’t want to make one of Vera as well.”**

Before Corvo could ask for an elaboration, the shrine was suddenly vacant. Minor paranoia nagged at him. The garden was now empty, but he didn’t feel alone. He suspected he was still being watched, and would be even once he’d left.

When Corvo re-entered the kitchen, Granny Rags was holding Campbell’s coat, running her fingertips over the fabric. “It’s a birthday present for you. I got it because the Outsider asked me to, and now I’m giving it to you.”

Corvo cautiously went to take it. The old woman snatched it back.

“Ah, ah, ah! You have to do something for Granny first. Such a helpful young man. A little favour, and then I’ll give you your present.”

Corvo couldn’t afford to be sidetracked. Once he got the black book from Campbell’s coat, he still had to return it to Rudshore for safe keeping, and then get to the Undine before sundown as he’d promised. But Corvo took the Outsider’s warning into account. He had tangled with Delilah once before, and it had almost gotten him killed. Corvo didn’t want to find out what another of the Outsider’s marked was capable of doing to him.

“What’s the favour?”

“Have you seen my little birdies? Those mean men at the Distillery aren’t very polite to them. No, not at all!” Her smile widened, and she took Corvo’s hands between hers. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if something happened to them?”

Corvo suspected he’d be late to Draper’s Ward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going away to celebrate a friend's birthday next week, but I'll work on the next chapter when I can, it should be about another week like when I was on holiday :) Thank you for reading so far!


	3. The Black Book - Part 2

It was almost sundown. So where was he?

Daud tapped his fingers against the metal railings. The persistent sound was irritating, even to himself, and he was grateful Thomas was too mild-mannered to complain. Samuel’s boat would be coming from the east, and the Undine's upper deck provided a good view of the river in that direction. Daud squinted, trying to make out any kind of shape against the horizon. Nothing.

Lizzy made an irritated click with her teeth. “Stop tapping.”

Daud couldn’t.

“If you’re this worried, I don’t get why you let him go in the first place,” the gang leader muttered, obviously amused.

“What choice did I have,” Daud bit back. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.

“You could’ve just told him no. You two might be fucking, but he does still work for you, right?”

“He’s stubborn.” Daud shot the woman a cynical look. “He’d have gone, whether I forbade it or not.”

“Whatever you say.” Lizzy didn’t bother arguing with that logic. “Seriously though, stop the tapping or I’ll take your fingers.”

Daud fixed his gaze back on the water. Still no boat docking at the harbour. He had to swallow a few times to loosen his throat. Corvo wouldn’t do this to him on purpose, wouldn’t make Daud wait like this without a good enough reason. A reason such as being caught and arrested again.

He almost voiced that train of thought aloud to Galia, after the Whaler offered his shoulder a comforting little pat.

“I heard you fretting from across the deck. Attano’s sharp as a whip, boss,” she said. “Give him some credit.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Galia,” Daud countered. “You’re the one who frets when I send someone from your group out into the city.”

“Says the man flinching at every movement on the river.”

Daud cursed himself when his head snapped back to the river in question, seeing something shift in the corner of his eye. Just a bird.

“I rest my case,” Galia sighed, leaning over the railings beside Jordan to watch the sunset. Daud was tempted to trip them both over the edge and watch them fall onto the deck below.

Thomas’s cautious voice stopped him. “Not to worry, Sir. In theory, it isn’t sundown for another hour or so. Corvo will be back soon.”

Thomas was ever the voice of reason, but Daud was too on edge to express his thanks, or even bark out reply. The rational part of him knew his concern was unnecessary. Corvo was intelligent, and could take care of himself. But the other part of him, the part that would only be satisfied once Corvo was back in his sight, remained stubbornly unconvinced that he’d return at all. Holger Square was a dangerous place for anyone, let alone a Whaler.

Lizzy straightened up from the railings after a while, stretching her arms above her head. “Let me know when pretty boy gets here. I gotta get my crew back in line before we leave. It’ll be good to get back out on the water,” she added under her breath.

The gang leader skulked to the helm and called down to the Dead Eels on the main deck below. They all looked uneasy after Wakefield’s recent demise.

“Alright, listen up. Your friend Edgar Wakefield sold me out to the city watch. And _you_ all followed him. But, y’know what,” Lizzy said, spreading out her arms, “I forgive you. I’m filled with love. But,” she added, giving a brief flash of her fangs, “the following people each owe me a finger.” She rounded off a list of names, claiming a second finger from a woman named Annabelle when she back-talked her.

“Do you think Stride would let me sound the horn if I asked?” Jordan grinned at Daud’s unimpressed expression. “It’d be fun. I’ve never been on a pirate ship before.”

“You’re a fucking child, Jordan Fleet,” Galia sighed.

Jordan pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “And you’re a boring old fart.”

“Enough, you two.” Daud felt a headache coming on. Whether from Jordan and Galia’s antics, or his own anticipation of Corvo’s arrival, he couldn’t tell. “Help the Eels prepare the ship. Wakefield left it in poor shape.”

Galia and the others joined the Eels on the main deck, and got to work in good time. Daud was glad he had decided to stay on good terms with Lizzy’s people, simply because they were the smartest of Dunwall’s mobs. He inspected the Undine. An old steamer ship, originally wooden and patched up in places with steel plates and other makeshift metal planks, making it look mismatched. It was anchored at the very end of the waterfront, opposite an old supply warehouse. Each time Daud stepped foot onto the ship, he found himself reluctant to leave. It would be easy to join Lizzy on her travels, and leave Dunwall for good one day; sail out and set up shop somewhere else. Back to Serkonos, perhaps. After Delilah was finished with, Daud decided he would discuss that potential with his men.

Only Thomas had remained on the upper deck, stood dutifully at his side. “You’re tapping again.”

Daud made fists with his hands to stop himself, and grunted something. He wasn’t even sure what he’d said.

“A distraction might do you some good, Sir.” Thomas wasn’t fazed when Daud’s scowl turned on him. “I heard a rune near the supply warehouse over there, at the end of the harbour.”

Daud wavered. He didn’t want to leave the upper deck. He couldn’t see the east river from anywhere else. But a distraction might work to relieve his mind from the relentless images of Corvo in shackles, behind the bars of an Overseer cell, or worse.

He gave in, and gave a short nod. “Very well.”

Thomas nodded too, a small smile gracing his lips. “I’ll be sure to find you, Sir. If I see sign of Corvo and the boatman.”

“Thank you,” Daud relented, the words sincere. He didn’t thank Thomas often enough for putting up with him.

He followed Thomas’s direction to the warehouse, and began hunting for the rune. He could hear it droning, but there was no obvious way into the building; the main entrance looked as though it had been shut off years ago. Daud eventually resorted for shrugging off his coat and seeing if there was an entrance under the river. He’d gone to worse lengths to retrieve the blasted things, and Thomas was right; Daud was grateful for the distraction, even though he was cold and dripping wet by the time he made it into the warehouse through the cellar door.

It was dark inside, and Daud barked out a curse when he hit his shin on a loose pipe sticking up from the floor. He glowered at the only light source; a shrine, and the rune was displayed in the centre. Tempting. Infuriating. Daud felt like it was goading him to take it. The last time he’d spoken with the Outsider had been in the Legal District, and the black-eyed bastard had taunted him over his dealings with Rothwild and Timsh. _You’ve gone soft, my old friend_ , he’d said, and Daud had stormed off knowing it was true. The Empress had made him soft. Sentimental.

Daud approached the shrine, squaring his shoulders before placing a gloved hand on the rune. It disappeared, surrounded by shadows, and then the Outsider appeared in the midst of them. The rest of the room blackened out, leaving only the deity clear in Daud’s sight.

 **“You keep surprising me, Daud,”** the Outsider greeted. **“Not long ago, I watched you murder an Empress and steal her child for coin. For a man like that, you’ve proceeded with an awfully soft touch.”**

“Save the pleasantries,” Daud said gruffly. “I just came for the rune.”

 **“Now, now. We both know that’s not true.”** The Outsider folded his arms and tilted his head. Daud felt an inordinate irritation at the gestures. **“Corvo has not returned to you. You came here for a distraction.”**

“Clever.” Daud was pleased to hear the word sounded cutting, and not as uneasy as he felt at the prospect of his thoughts being known with such ease. “But I’d be more impressed with your insight if you weren’t able to poke around in my head.”

**“Corvo said something similar. Not an hour ago, at one of my shrines.”**

Daud felt his breath hitch at that information. He wet his lips. He knew the Outsider wanted him to pry, and he was too weak to resist asking. “He’s alright?”

 **“He is.”** The Outsider looked off to the side, as though he could see something in the distance. **“Or he _was._ When I spoke to him last. Would you like to know what we spoke about? It was most interesting.”**

“Don’t play games with me.”

**“You used to love our games. Corvo hasn't offered any complaints about me yet.”**

Daud recalled what he’d felt when Corvo had shown him the Outsider’s mark on his hand. Anger. Frustration. An overwhelming need to protect him from anything and everything, particularly the creature before him now. “Don’t talk about him like a thing to be played with for your amusement,” he growled. “I won’t allow it.”

 **“Allow it?”** The Outsider’s mouth twitched up in one corner.  **“Daud, Daud, Daud. I have missed out talks.** **We haven’t spoken like this since before Corvo was taken by Hume’s men,"** he sighed, almost wistfully. ****“** I saw how that time apart from him, thinking he’d been taken from you, affected you so. He was ready to die for you, the night I came to him with my mark. Did he tell you that?”**

Daud tried to keep his voice steady. “Of course he didn’t.”

The Outsider gave what could be considered a chuckle, but Daud could never be sure. **“I saved his life. Am I not owed your gratitude for that?”**

“I don’t owe you anything. He wouldn’t have been taken at all, had you not marked Delilah,” Daud grated out from between his teeth. “None of this would have happened if not for you.”

**“You’re putting the puzzle together at last, aren’t you? It’s not easy. Delilah’s exceedingly bright, and her coven is rising with her to guide them. Change is coming, and Delilah has a plan. But do you, Daud? I’m curious to see what you’ll do.”**

“Your elusiveness never fails to irritate me,” Daud growled. “See what I’ll do with _what,_ exactly?”

 **“You’ve always been selfish. Its what first drew me to you. You were driven by greed, for wealth and power. Never sparing a thought for those around you as long as you came away alive. You’re still so obstinate. Some things never change.”** The Outsider leaned forward slightly, the abyss of his eyes boring into Daud. **“But some things do, don’t they. I see the lengths you'd go to, to keep Corvo all for yourself. That’s what you want, isn’t it, Daud? Corvo was ready to die for you. He still is. After all that’s changed between you, I wonder... Would you be prepared to do the same for him?”**

At Daud’s silence, the Outsider smiled.

**“You would. How fascinating.”**

The warehouse came back into focus, and he was alone. When Daud made it back onto the harbour, the sun had set and the District was dark.

***

Taking the Outsider’s warning into account, Corvo had parted with Granny Rags on good terms. Breaking into Galvani’s lab had been easy, and he’d poisoned the Bottle Street gang’s elixir still with a mild bout of plague, as the old woman had asked of him. Triumphant, Corvo carried Campbell’s coat under his arm and flicked through a few pages of the black book. As he'd expected, everything was written in code. Chester or Feodor could probably decipher it. Corvo decided he’d get started as soon as he returned from Brigmore.

He made it to the Back yard by sundown.

“Eventful time out in the city?” Samuel greeted.

“Do I look that bad?”

The boatman smiled kindly. “A little tired, maybe. You were on land since early morning, if you remember.”

An entire day had passed since he’d asked Daud to trust him to revisit Holger Square. It felt much longer, more like a week. They set off back to Rudshore to deliver the black book. Corvo knew it would be a journey of a few more hours, and he was impatient to see Daud, to let him know he was alright. Corvo was so accustomed to it being the other way around; protecting Daud at the Feasts, anxious to see him home safe. He found himself fidgeting most of the way back, and Corvo was grateful that his constant shuffling didn’t seem to bother Samuel. He couldn’t seem to still himself until they reached the old docks at the Flooded District.

Corvo went to the Chamber, realizing halfway that he was still carrying Campbell’s coat. He abandoned it at the kennels. It would make a nice bed for one of the wolfhounds.

The novice Whalers were staying at Rudshore, seeing as they weren’t permitted to come to Brigmore; the mission was far too dangerous for pups. A few master assassins were staying behind too, to keep an eye on them. Rulfio was among them, and he was leaving the archive room when Corvo got there.

The Whaler frowned when he saw him. “I thought you were at Draper’s Ward.”

“I’m going there now.”

"Not so fast." Rulfio grabbed his arm when he tried to pass. “Where have you been?”

“Out.”

Rulfio tugged him back, unimpressed, when Corvo tried to sidestep him again. “Where?”

“Outside.”

“Such a clever shit, aren’t you.” Rulfio frowned at his dishevelled appearance. “On second thought, I doubt I even want to know.”

"Since you're here," Corvo pulled the black book from his coat. “I need a favour.”

“Ever straight to the point.” Rulfio took the book and examined it. “A book?”

“Now who’s a clever shit,” Corvo said. “I need you to keep it safe till I get back.”

Rulfio raised an eyebrow at him. “Do I dare ask why?”

“I’ll explain after Brigmore. Please, just keep it safe.”

Rulfio sighed, but didn’t question him further. “Alright.” He stored it in his own coat pocket. “It’s safe with me, whatever it is.”

“Thanks.”

“Mm-hm.”

"I owe you."

"Mm-hm." Rulfio dragged him forward, and wrapped his arms around him tightly. “Pay me back by not getting yourself killed. Be careful at Brigmore.”

Corvo pressed back, closing his eyes against Rulfio’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

Rulfio released him, and shoved him back the way he’d came. “Now get going, or you’ll be late.”

“Surprised you can still keep track of time at your age, old man.”

“Fucker.”

Corvo smiled, and returned the old docks. He and Samuel set out to Draper’s ward.

Wrenhaven was always quiet in the evenings, as long as the weather was good. The evening sky reflected in the river; reds and yellows and oranges, making the surface look like fire instead of water. Corvo absently dipped his fingers in as the riverboat drifted along. It was strangely serene, like the calm before the storm, and he felt his eyelids drooping.

After a while, he felt Samuel watching him. “What?”

“This must be the first time I’ve seen you look peaceful,” the boatman commented. Corvo cracked an eye open. “Your life seems fast paced for someone so young. Running about everywhere, always something to do. I think it’s nice, is all. To see you like this.”

“I like being on the water.”

Samuel hummed agreeably. “I’ve always felt at home on the river. Time almost seems to stop when you’re far enough away from the city.”

“Mm.” Corvo had never minded living in Rudshore for that reason, even after the dam had broken and flooded the buildings. “Must be nice to have your own boat.”

“I’ve had this old thing for years,” the boatman answered, patting the edge of the vessel. “Found her washed up one day, off one of the Pandyssian shores. Fixed her up, and she’s been with me ever since.”

“You’ve been to Pandyssia?”

Samuel nodded, and Corvo tried not to look as impressed as he felt. The boatman was an enigma indeed. Only one in twenty men came back from Pandyssia alive.

They lapsed into an amiable silence, with the occasional sound of waves or birds cutting through. Corvo gazed over the buildings across the river as they slowly coast past. He wished the boat could go faster. The sun had set completely now, and the buoys were beginning to light up the edges of the river.

“I’m so late,” he muttered.

“I wouldn’t worry, sir.” Samuel sounded sympathetic. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“You don’t know him very well, do you.”

“Well, I suppose he’s not the most patient man. From what little I’ve seen of him.”

The boatman didn’t know the half of it. Corvo was sometimes still amazed the novice recruits made it out of training alive. “He’s going to kill me.”

Samuel chuckled. “Oh, I doubt that, sir. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’ll be glad you’ve made it back safe, I’m sure of it.”

The words were so genuine, Corvo felt his cheeks begin to flush. He dropped his gaze, hoping the collar of his jacket would hide his discomfort. “If you say so.”

Samuel’s knowing smile only made Corvo’s face heat up more. “First time you’ve been in love, eh?”

Corvo didn’t answer.

“I remember what that’s like. It can be wonderful at times, a little frightening at others. Either way, you never forget the first one,” the boatman said, steering the Amaranth around the bend between Slaughterhouse Row and Kaldwin’s Bridge. “And you never know. The first one might end up being the only one, if you’re lucky.”

Corvo knew Daud was the only one, without question. He shook his head to himself, realising how that sounded. Fuck, he’d become as sappy as Jordan and Galia.

Samuel took another bend in the river, and Draper’s Ward came into view. When they neared the harbour, Corvo hopped onto the shore and tied the riverboat off. He offered his hand, helping Samuel onto the land.

The boatman whistled up at the Undine’s mast. “Been a long time since I’ve seen an old steamer ship like this. Taller than I remember.”

Corvo agreed absently, peering around at the waterfront. It was a stark and dirty contrast to the noble apartments overlooking it. The last time he’d been here had been on the Croonigan job, when they’d had no knowledge of Delilah and Jessamine Kaldwin had still been on the throne. It was disorientating, looking back on those times, how Draper’s Ward had used to look. The Dead Eel’s presence gave Corvo some comfort; they hadn’t changed a bit.

Corvo and Samuel hopped onto the ship, avoiding the Whalers and Eel members bustling around. He made out Quinn among them, and the Whaler came over when he spotted them.

“About time, Attano,” Quinn greeted. “Before sundown my ass. We’ve been worried.”

“I take it Wakefield wasn’t a problem.”

“Nah. Stride threw his corpse overboard, and she’s ordered the rest of her men to give us safe passage.”

Corvo hummed. “Where’s Daud?”

“You don’t know where Daud is?” Quinn staggered back in mock surprise. “Well, now I’m shocked. Here I was beginning to think you were morphing into one person, with the amount of time you spend together these days.”

“Where is he, Quinn?”

“Below deck,” the Whaler relented. “He wandered off for a while, and kept falling asleep when he got back. Stride told him to fuck off and get some rest. He’s been pissed off most of the afternoon.” Quin cocked an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t have anything to do with you being gone all day, right?”

Corvo glared.

Quinn’s grin widened, then he reached behind Corvo and tugged on Samuel’s sleeve, “You know about boat engines, right?”

“A fair bit,” the boatman answered. Corvo suspected he was being humble.

“Great,” Quinn sighed in relief. “Stride said the Hatters tampered with the engine coil a while back. Come see what you can do.”

Corvo sidestepped the pair, heading to the stairs that led beneath the ship. “I need to let Daud know I’m back.”

He could feel Quinn’s shit-eating grin trained on his back. “Give him my love.”

“Fuck off.”

Inside one of the cabins, Daud looked like he’d passed out cold; sprawled over the bed, shoes still on, coat discarded on the floor. The man didn’t stir when Corvo closed the door. Corvo kicked his own boots off and shrugged out of his jacket, finally giving way to his exhaustion. He knew there was more chaos to come; the voyage to the Mucherhaven District, and then Brigmore Manor. He couldn’t care about that yet. He’d gotten Campbell’s book and made safely it to the Undine. For now, he could rest.

Corvo pulled the sheets over Daud, then slipped under them himself, shuffling close.

The movements roused the older man, and his question was muffled against Corvo’s hair. “Corvo?”

Corvo smiled. “No, it’s someone else. He’ll be back soon, though, so we should probably be quick.”

Daud huffed a laugh. “Don’t count on it. He’s probably in an Overseer cell as we speak.”

“Little faith,” Corvo muttered. “I wasn’t noticed once.” Not counting Granny Rags, an old blind woman. He decided to keep that to himself.

“Did you get your fucking book?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Daud pulled him into his arms, bruisingly tight, and Corvo tucked his head under Daud’s chin. He felt the man's nose bury into his hair, reassuring himself of his presence.

Corvo curled closer, entwining their legs. “I’ll focus on Brigmore now. I didn’t mean to become sidetracked.” He was only answered with a grunt, but Daud’s fingers started to rake slowly through his hair.

“You’re late. You said you’d be here by sundown.”

“I’ll find a faster boat next time.”

Daud chuckle rumbled against his ear. “Next time. There’s not a chance I’ll allow a next time. Your place is here with me.”

Corvo couldn’t argue with that. He let his muscles relax against the uncomfortable mattress, stifling a yawn against Daud’s chest. They’d probably have to be up before sunrise tomorrow, to help man the ship. Corvo glared at the prospect of having to move after everything he’d been through today.

"Corvo."

He had begun to drift, and blinked a few times to clear his head. "Yeah?"

Daud felt tense against him. Uneasy. Corvo tried to shuffle up to get an idea of his expression, but Daud wouldn't let him. "At the Office. Did they question you about me?"

"I didn't tell them anything."

"Outsider's eyes, I don't care about that," Daud snapped. Corvo flinched at his tone. He felt the man sigh after a few seconds, his fingers moving gently through Corvo's hair. "I'm sorry. This was meant to be an apology. You almost died because of me."

Daud had enough to regret; the Empress, Emily, Billie, the men they'd lost along the way. Corvo certainly didn't want his interrogation to be added to that list, especially since Daud had had no control over that. "You don't have a say in my choices, so don't lose sleep over it," Corvo said. "What's brought this on?"

Daud shook his head, and Corvo knew immediately that he wouldn't reveal his reasons. "I just... I'd die for you, too. I want you to know that."

The words were so unlike Daud, and yet Corvo felt his jaw start to wobble. He hid his face in the man's shoulder, but Daud could probably feel him shaking. "I love you." The words had escaped him before he found the heart to stop himself.

Daud held him tighter, and pressed a kiss into his hair. "I love you, too."

Corvo choked out a laugh against him, closing his eyes when he felt them start to sting. His fingers were clutching Daud's shirt, trying to anchor himself onto something. He'd never felt so out of control. He'd been beaten, tortured, and Outsider knew what else in his life, and those three words had rendered him to this; a sobbing mess in a ship cabin. He'd never imagined hearing them. Maybe he should have, because he might have handled this better. He felt ridiculous, and he said so, once he was able to speak again.

"Sorry. I'm ridiculous." His voice was rough, and broke twice.

Daud pressed his chuckle against Corvo's forehead. "You are." It was fond, and followed by a kiss, and Corvo choked out another sound that he'd probably be embarrassed about for years after this. He didn't care.

He calmed down after a while, and Daud finally stopped teasing him. He felt the ship's engine rumble to life beneath the cabin, and Stride's voice filtered through from the deck above, shouting orders for her men to cast off. As the Undine pulled out of the harbour, Corvo finally let himself sleep.

***

Emily was waiting for him in the Void. She sat cross-legged, like always, scribbling her drawing down. Corvo sat beside her. She handed the picture to him, her brows furrowed, and Corvo examined it. A girl dressed in white, sat in a throne. Behind her was a dark figure, covered in roses and thorns, and her claws were closing around the girl’s shoulders. Delilah.

Corvo frowned. Emily and the witch were unconnected. How could she know about Delilah?

“I keep dreaming about her. I don’t like her eyes.”

It was the first time Emily had spoken to him. Corvo glanced down at her. She looked scared. After a few moments, Corvo tore the drawing in two; Emily on one half, Delilah on the other. He let the paper fall from their island, down into the harsh light at the centre of the Void.

“I’ll protect you.”

Emily laid her head on his shoulder. Corvo rested his chin on her hair. They remained that way until they woke on opposite sides of the city.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A LOT of fluff in this chapter. Also many different interactions going on, I hope people follow them alright. If not, I'm open to any questions as always.
> 
> Also, who saw the new gameplay trailer for Dishonored 2 this week? I'm so excited!


	4. The Graveyard Switch

The grounds of Brigmore Manor were unlike anything Corvo had seen before. He hadn't seen lush grass since he'd lived in Serkonos. It was one of the few things he remembered about his home; the rich land surrounding Karnaca. He kept losing focus while they were walking, his attention captured by the array of different plants; flowers, trees, thick vines snaking over the rocks the Undine had anchored behind to keep hidden.

Lizzy provided them with five riverboats to take ashore. Six overall including the Amaranth, which had only just fit inside the Undine’s loading bay. Daud had taken the best fifteen Whalers with him, seeing as that was all the riverboats could carry between them. Half the men had to stay aboard with the Eels. It probably wasn’t the ideal number Daud had wanted to bring, but it would have to do.

Once they were in view of the Manor, Daud signalled them to halt, and they checked their gear and ammo. Everyone was obviously tense. Arden kept swearing at his wristbow, cigarette held between his teeth.

Corvo glanced at him. “What’s the problem?”

“Fucking thing keeps gettin’ stuck,” the Whaler cursed, knocking his wristbow against a nearby rock. “Outsider’s fuckin’ arse–”

Thomas caught his arm, silencing him. “Quiet. There might be witches patrolling near.”

Arden grunted, giving the wristbow one more bash. “Piece of shit weapon,” he muttered, skulking to Jenkins to see if he could fix it.

Corvo double checked the gears on his own wristbow, and then examined the Manor. It was enormous; that was obvious, even with most of the view obscured by trees. It spanned the entire width of the grounds. As far as he could see, the only way in was the front door. His nerves spiked. He hated using the front door.

“Nervous?”

Corvo looked sidelong at Galia. “You’d be stupid, not to be.”

“That’s what I keep telling Jordan.” Galia looked over at the Whaler. “He’s not scared of anything, so he says.” She sighed, “Idiot.”

“Worried about him?”

“Always.”

“You’re here to keep an eye on him, at least.”

“Yeah. It’s exhausting, though. He gets into more trouble than our new wolfhounds.” Galia glimpsed at Daud, who looked ready to knock Arden and Jenkins’s heads together. He was too far to overhear them, but Galia leaned in close to Corvo anyway. “I want to tell you something. Someone ought to know, before things get going here.”

Corvo hummed for her to continue.

“Jordan’s asked me to marry him.” Her skin flushed red along her cheekbones. “We’re planning to leave. Maybe start a family somewhere else in Gristol. Or in Dunwall, if the city ever gets better.”

Corvo was rarely surprised, but he was speechless for a moment. “If that’s what you both want.”

“It is,” Galia said, smiling. “We’ve been talking about it for a while.” She glimpsed at Daud again. “I don’t want Daud to know just yet. He’s got enough on his plate, poor man.”

“I won’t tell him. Promise you will, when this is over.”

“Of course I will.” Galia pulled Corvo forward in a hug. Corvo tried not to squirm; Galia was touchy, and she normally forgot to respect Corvo’s boundaries when she was excited. But she drew back quickly, still smiling brightly. “Thank you. I wanted you to know first. Besides Jordan, you were the first person I really spoke to when I came here.”

Corvo remembered her arrival well. She’d been as shy as Feodor the first few months, but had gradually come out of her shell. “I’m happy for you. Galia fleet,” he added. Jordan’s surname sounded good on her.

“Not Fleet yet,” she laughed, shoving his arm. “And don’t get soft on me, Attano. We’ve had enough of that since you and the boss got together.”

“Hmph.” Corvo couldn’t deny that. “Got everything?”

“Yeah. Have you?”

Corvo nodded. He almost went for his blade when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Arden grinned. “What’re we talkin’ about over here?”

“Nosy,” Galia said, sticking her nose up at him. “None of your business.” With a wink at Corvo, she walked towards her fiancé. Corvo watched her roll her eyes as she helped Jordan load some stun mines into his belt.

Corvo found himself struggling not to smile. _Soft_ , he cursed to himself. Galia was right.

“That wristbow working now?”

“For now. Fuckin’ thing,” Arden answered, offering Corvo his cigarette.

He plucked it from the Whaler’s fingers, taking a drag. He held back a cough. “These are awful.”

“Aye,” Arden said, taking it back and blowing out a ring of smoke. “Stole ‘em from Vladko. High-strung prick only smokes the strong stuff. Thought they might help with the nerves. Pretty serious shit we’re gettin’ into today.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Corvo cocked his jaw to the side, then stole the cigarette back and took a long drag. It did relax him slightly.

“Everyone’s pissin’ themselves. Don’t blame ‘em. Witches are nasty.”

Arden sounded like he knew from previous experience. Corvo was tempted to ask, but he knew it was pointless with Arden. The Whaler changed the tales of his past each time someone asked him, and Corvo had given up long ago. There were only a few things he knew for certain about the man; his love for smokes, drink and women was among that, and still that was obvious to anyone who spent five minutes with him.

“You two.” They looked to Daud, and he beckoned them over.

They fell in among the small group of Whalers. Corvo came to stand beside Leonid, and they shared a brief nod. HE always felt comfortable around her. Despite their looks, they were very similar; withdrawn, quiet. _Made from snark and pigheadedness_ , Corvo remembered Daud saying once.

“What’s the plan, boss?” Arden asked, stubbing out the cigarette on the grass.

“Can I ask that we not use the main entrance?” Jordan added. “That’s just my input, Sir, but it looks well guarded. And it’s probably locked.”

“Agreed,” Daud said gruffly. “We’ll find another way in.”

“Sir. If I may,” Thomas spoke up, taking a step out of the crowd. “While I was scouting, I found a crypt in the graveyard, just behind the Manor wall. It may have been an underground passage, but there was a witch patrolling nearby. I didn’t have time to look into it in detail.”

“Good work. Split into your usual groups. Corvo and Thomas, you’re with me.” He proceeded to assign the Whalers their tasks.

Once most people had split off, Corvo nudged his arm. “Can someone stay with Samuel? I don’t want him waiting alone at the boats.”

Daud sent Akila and Killian to guard the shores where the boats had been left.

“Thanks.”

Daud grunted. “Something tells me he can take care of himself.”

“I don’t want to risk it.”

“Hm. You’ve found us a surprising ally in that boatman.”

“I still don’t understand why he’s helping us,” Corvo muttered.

“No matter his reasons, he is. Don’t question it.” Daud took his shoulder, turning Corvo to face him fully. His thumb brushed over his jaw. “Are you ready?”

Corvo nodded, leaning into the touch.

“We finish this today. And then we go home.”

Corvo gave another nod, and felt himself smile at the concept. They’d been on more difficult missions than taking down one witch and her followers. They were all capable, especially with Daud among them. Corvo was confident they’d return to Dunwall triumphant.

“Thomas,” Daud regained the Whaler’s attention. “This crypt you found. Lead the way.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Thomas began to show them the way, leading them along the cliff face at the edge of the grounds. Smart, Corvo credited the Whaler. Against the rocks, it would be difficult to spot them from the Manor. The wall surrounding the house itself separated the grounds from the gardens and graveyard.

“They’ve put down snares,” Thomas warned. Corvo followed his gaze to a lower part of the wall, making out a trip wire strung across the space there. “Probably best to go over.”

Daud grunted his approval, marking his position on top of the wall and disappearing seconds after. Corvo and Thomas followed. Corvo’s new blink still caught him off guard at times; it felt faster, energetic. He almost toppled over when he landed. Daud steadied his shoulder.

The older assassin hissed out a sigh, clearly unimpressed. “With witches and Outsider knows what else here, only you’d fall to your death from a wall.”

Corvo’s cheeks felt hot. “Fuck off,” he muttered, blinking amidst the graveyard and low hanging willow trees below. Thomas was snickering quietly when he joined him, but was silenced by Daud’s scowl.

“There’s the crypt.” Thomas pointed to the small, roofless stone building; it looked easy enough to enter from above. “I’ll watch your back from here, Sir.”

“Stay well hidden. This is more exposed than I’d like,” Daud said. Despite the willows providing some cover, they were in direct sight of the Manor, and greenhouse beside it. There was also a statue in the courtyard, in front of the main doors. One of Delilah’s, no doubt. Corvo wondered vaguely if they all came to life, like the one he’d encountered in Timsh’s house. He hoped not.

Inside the crypt, it only took a quick scrutiny to realise Thomas was right. The gravestone was a fake, and concealed an underground passage into the Manor. There was a note where the lever to open the crypt should have been. Corvo read it aloud.

“‘Delilah - I took the liberty of hiding the graveyard switch in the shed. The front entrance is the only other way into the Manor, and rest assured it is locked and guarded. Once Daud arrives here, there will be nowhere for him to hide - Aveline.’”

“They think I’m coming alone?”

“Looks that way.” Daud hummed. “That may give us an advantage. Maybe Delilah isn’t as smart as she seems.” He examined the note. “Garden shed. What do you bet it’s behind the Manor,” he said sourly.

Corvo heard plants rustling outside the crypt, and Thomas appeared, pulling them both into a corner to shield them from the view of the entryway. A creature, sinewy and furless, but still resembling a hound, prowled by; the bone of its snout sniffing the air as it went.

Corvo only allowed himself to breathe once it was gone. “What the fuck was that?”

“I have no idea,” Thomas answered. “They appeared out of nowhere. Their skulls are lying about all over the grounds.”

“Best avoid them,” Daud muttered. “Let’s find the graveyard switch. It looks like our best way in.”

“I’ll go.”

“We’ll all go,” Daud growled.

“And that’s sure to get us all caught.” Corvo schooled his expression into a glare. “You’ve sent me on a lot of retrieval jobs, in noble estates. Breaking into a garden shed is nothing.”

Daud opened his mouth to argue, but Thomas tentatively cut in. “He has a point, Sir. It may prove unwise, to stay grouped together while moving around.”

Daud pinched the bridge of his nose. “Outsider preserve me, ganged upon by my own people,” he grunted. He shook his head, resigning, “Very well.”

Thomas nodded, and turned to Corvo. “We’ll see you back here.”

Corvo looked at Daud for his input. The man made a sound in the back of his throat, which Corvo took for acceptance.

As Thomas stood watch at the crypt door, Corvo pressed a kiss to the corner of Daud’s mouth. “I won’t be seen. I never am.”

Daud looked half fond, half irritated. He pressed closer, kissing Corvo properly; a short, tender gesture that made Corvo’s knees weaken, before he pulled back. “Go, then. We’ll wait here.”

***

That moment. Daud would remember that moment. When Corvo was near and trusting and looking up at him with those dark eyes so similar to the Outsider's, but they were ones that Daud had come to adore. He would remember, once that moment ended, everything had fallen to pieces.

Corvo prepared to blink from the crypt, but the light from his mark faded when Arden appeared. The Whaler clutched a bleeding arm, his face covered in scratches.

“Fuck,” Thomas breathed, staring up and down at the blood covered Whaler. Daud had never heard Thomas curse until then.

Corvo was more to the point. “What happened?”

“A fuckin’ ambush,” Arden spat. “Me and Feodor went past one of them statues, and that was it. Those bitches swarmed us. They’re everywhere, they knew we were comin’.”

Daud cursed his own naivety. The note by the passageway had just been a snare, to lure him into a false sense of security. Of course they had known he’d bring his men. Delilah was as smart as she seemed, after all.

“What’s the situation?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“Bad. Fuckin’ bad.” Arden winced when he tried to move his wounded arm. “They got those hounds, and they can shoot these blasted, fuckin’ thorns.” The Whaler removed his hand, revealing a dozen sharp, black thorns sticking though his bicep. “Sorry, boss. Seems we’ve lost you the element of surprise.”

Daud would have admitted his own blame. He should have been more careful, he should have seen this coming. But there wasn’t time. Instead, he gave his orders to Thomas.

“Round up the men. Quickly. It’s too dangerous for them to stay around the Manor now. Take them back to the shore.”

“Sir.” Thomas transversed from sight.

Corvo began drawing his blade, but Daud caught his arm. “You’re not fighting. Get the switch.”

Corvo glared. “The men–”

“Are my responsibility.” Every fibre of his being instructed him to keep Corvo close, but Daud pushed him backwards, urging him to go. “Get the switch. We still need this way in. Meet me back here.” When Corvo still wavered, Daud gave him a harder shove. “For once in your life, don’t be stubborn. And don’t you dare be seen. Go,” he barked.

Corvo's glare deepened, but he disappeared.

Daud drew his sword, inspecting Arden as he did. “Are you still able to fight?”

Arden chuckled. “Probably not. But I ain’t runnin’ till everyone’s safe.”

Daud didn’t waste breath arguing with him. They left the crypt, stealing around the trees. Once out in the open, Daud saw how bad it had really become. The front courtyard was a battle ground. The next minutes rushed past in a haze of swords and blood. Daud couldn’t count the number he’d killed, and by the time they’d thinned the witches out and his men could safely retreat back to the shore, his vision was red and his chest heaving. His coat felt sticky from the blood he’d spilled.

“There are likely reinforcements on the way,” Thomas warned him.

“Get back to the shore,” Daud called to his men. The more able Whalers helped the injured move away from the Manor, drawing back past the graveyard and around the cliff face.

Daud rushed over to Jordan, who was knelt on the grass, cradling Galia’s body. There was a deep gash in her stomach, and Daud feared the worst for a moment, before he saw Galia’s hand gripping Jordan’s tightly. She was alive.

“G-Galia...” Jordan managed quietly, staring down at her wound.

Daud bent down, scooping her out of Jordan’s arms and into his own. Jordan was far too deep in shock to carry her out of there. “Move,” he ordered the Whaler sharply. “Back to the boats.”

They found refuge on the rocks, where they’d left Samuel and the riverboats. The boatman rushed forward to help when he saw them approaching. Daud laid Galia down, Jordan hovering shakily over his shoulder.

“She’ll be alright,” Daud muttered, throwing some health elixir’s to Akila. “Take care of her. Don’t let her lose consciousness.”

Akila nodded, giving Jordan’s shoulder a firm pat before kneeling down to tend to Galia’s wounds.

Daud’s ears were ringing. He hadn’t fought like that, with such ferocity, since the Overseer surge at Rudshore. He did a quick headcount, and noticed Thomas doing the same nearby. He knew Corvo was retrieving the graveyard switch, but they appeared to be another two Whalers short. Only twelve had returned to the shore.

“Who are we missing?” Thomas asked.

“Quinn and Jenkins.” Daud scanned around again. No sign of them. “I’ll go back.” Thomas went to follow him, but Daud held out an arm, stopping him. “No. You’re in charge. Keep them safe until I get back.”

Thomas swallowed visibly, but nodded. “Yes, Sir.” The Whaler walked back to the group, and ordered Vladko and Leonid to be lookouts. Some of Daud’s worry dissipated at the sound of Thomas’s authoritative tone.

Returning to the grounds, the stillness was a disturbing contrast from the bloodshed before. Only the odd crow caw sounded in the distance every now and again. Daud cautiously prowled among the dead hounds and witches he’d helped cut down. He prayed he wouldn’t see Jenkins or Quinn’s bodies amidst the carnage. In front of the main entrance, he circled around one of Delilah’s statues, noticing a familiar mask beneath. He crouched down to examine it. Inside, Jenkins’s name was scratched near the air filter.

“Where are you,” Daud muttered.

_“Daud.”_

He peered up. The statue’s pupil-less eyes were staring down at him.

 _“I knew you’d come. Lurk told me you wouldn’t give up. Even as she knelt before me, and gave me all your secrets.”_ The statue’s smooth voice echoed slightly, and Daud could feel the supernatural energy seeping from it. _“I know what you’re doing. I know what that mark on your hand is. Just like the one on mine. I know everything you can do.”_

“Then you know I’m more than capable of reaching you,” Daud grated out, remaining hunkered down in front of the statue.

_“Are you still bitter about the last time we spoke? After learning of Lurk’s betrayal. And your little crow’s capture.”_

His nostrils flared at the memory of that day, but he stayed silent. Delilah didn’t know Corvo had escaped the Overseers. Daud wanted to keep it that way for as long as he could.

 _“Such a shame about him. Handsome young thing. But no matter. The rest of your men will perish here too. Unless..."_  The statue trailed off. _“Unless you surrender yourself. They won’t be harmed. They are free to scurry back to that hovel you call home, as long as they stay away from my Manor. Without you, they pose no threat to me.”_ The statue seemed to sneer, regarding him. _“I do enjoy seeing you bowed before me like this. A taste of what’s to come, once my ritual is completed.”_

“Ritual,” Daud repeated. “What ritual?”

 _“You’ll know soon enough, Knife of Dunwall. You’ve already been discovered, and I have more sisters than the ones you’ve slain here. There is no escape for you now,”_ the statue said, self-satisfied, and with a small smile at the corner of its stone mouth. _“Both of us have been chosen, Daud. But history will only remember one. Delilah.”_

The statue became still, and the moment it did, one of the hellhound’s skulls near it began to rise and take its full form. Daud drew his blade, but the hound was already lunging for him. It sunk its teeth into his leg, and he felt the bone crunch. He snarled, and staggered to his knees when the beast bit down harder. He stuck his blade through the hound’s spine, making it howl and open its jaw. Daud managed to scramble away, and he aimed a metal bolt at its head. Once the hound’s body had disappeared, Daud stood, putting weight on his uninjured leg, and crushed the beast’s skull under his boot.

“Fuck,” he growled, trying to lean on his wound and almost buckling under the pain. He looked around at his predicament. He was far too out in the open to deal with the injury here. And Delilah’s statue had no doubt informed the rest of her coven of his presence. It was only a matter of time before they appeared here to search for him. He couldn’t return to his men. He’d get them killed. “Fuck,” he repeated. Corvo was right, and he almost laughed. He truly didn’t have a knack for stealth.

He heard quick footsteps, and whipped around. Quinn and Jenkins darted over from the trees, swords drawn.

Daud snarled. “Where the fuck have you both been?”

“Some of those hellhounds had us cornered,” Jenkins panted, leaning down on his knees to catch his breath. He caught his whaling mask when Daud tossed it at him.

“Took us a while to figure out how to kill them,” Quinn added. “You have to crush the skull.”

“I know.” Daud cringed when he staggered onto his right leg.

“Shit, Sir,” Jenkins cursed, staring at his injury.

Quinn grimaced, guilty.“We should’ve escaped sooner.”

“Not your fault,” Daud waved them off, voice rough. He wasn’t in the mood for an apology. He glanced around, checking the area for witches. It wasn’t safe for his men to be so exposed like this, for them to be so close to him after what Deilah had said. “Go back to the shore. Now.”

Quinn came forward to help Daud walk.

Daud stepped back, managing not to topple over. “No.”

“But–”

“Quinn,” Daud growled, tone brooking no argument. “Go to the shore, both of you. I'm meeting Corvo in the graveyard. We’ll decide how to proceed.”

Daud was grateful the Whaler wasn’t as pigheaded as Corvo. “Sure, boss. We’ll see you at the boats.”

 _No, you won’t_ , he thought, watching Quinn and Jenkins head towards the rocks. Daud let his composure go once the men were gone from sight; his breath harsh and hissing through his teeth. They had to stop Delilah. Whatever she was planning, Daud couldn’t allow it to be carried through. But his failing here would get his men killed if he continued to involve them, now that they had been discovered. And Daud couldn’t stop her on his own, not with his injury.

He closed his eyes, becoming conscious of the choice he was left with. The Outsider’s last words suddenly made sense to him, and he choked out a laugh. He imagined that black-eyed bastard was enjoying the show; so eager to see Daud throw everything away for a chance at redemption. Delilah still thought Corvo was dead. She didn’t know Corvo was here. Daud knew what had to happen now.

He began to move, struggling to keep upright on his injured leg. But he grit his teeth, resolved. He had to get back to the crypt. And Void forgive him for what he planned to do. He hoped Corvo would forgive him, too. Some day.

***

He’d wanted to fight alongside the rest of the men, but Corvo had his orders. Get the graveyard switch. Don’t be seen. Meet Daud back at the crypt.

He grabbed the switch and blinked up through the shed’s broken ceiling, rushing back around the side of the Manor. He kept out of reach of the river krusts hanging there, skidding to a stop when he saw the grounds. There were bodies lying everywhere in the aftermath of the fighting; witches and hounds, but no Whalers among them as far as Corvo could see. They must have managed to retreat to the shore. Corvo scaled up to one of the Manor’s balconies to get a better view. Reinforcements were patrolling the courtyard, but they hadn’t reached the graveyard yet. He stole along the edge of the Manor roof, blinking onto the greenhouse and dropping down into the cemetery. Some of the hounds were getting closer, their snouts pressed low to the ground. He blinked to the crypt.

Corvo’s body worked fast, while his mind was foggy at the sight of Daud; slumped down against the wall, teeth clenched in pain, a pool of blood under his right leg. Corvo placed a stun mine by the crypt’s entrance. “Knew I should’ve stayed to keep an eye on you,” he said quietly as he worked.

A huff from Daud. “I’d be inclined to agree with you. Did you get the switch?”

Corvo slot the graveyard switch into its panel in answer, then dropped to his knees and surveyed the damage to Daud’s leg. The skin had been mangled by whichever hound had gone for him, revealing the muscle and bone underneath the torn flesh.

“We can deal with it once we’re underground,” Corvo said, proud at the steadiness of his voice.

“Corvo–”

“We’ll make time. We’ll deal with it,” Corvo assured, cutting him off. “Are the others at the shore?”

“Yes.” Daud hissed when he moved his leg. “It’s too dangerous to keep them here.”

“We can carry on. Just the two of us.” Corvo pulled the switch down, and the crypt slid open, revealing a drop into the dark passageway beneath. Corvo grabbed Daud’s arm, placing it around his own shoulders to support him, and he tugged the man to his feet. “Come on–”

“No, Corvo–”

“We have to go–”

“Corvo,” Daud said, firmer, shrugging Corvo away. “They know I’m here.”

“I know that,” Corvo snapped. He glanced quickly at the open doorway, hearing the hounds’ barking become louder. “They’re coming. Please, we need to go–”

“And then what?” Daud breathed a pitiful laugh. “We escape the grounds, and then they find me down in the passage, or inside the Manor, or wherever Delilah is, if I even make it that far. They know I’m here,” he repeated slowly. One of his hands moved to cup Corvo’s jaw. “They haven’t seen you. They’re not after you, but they will be once they find you with me. And they _will_ find me.”

“They already know we’re here and they’re coming, we have to–”

“They know _I’m_ here. You weren’t seen.” He gave a short, strained chuckle, shaking his head, “You never are.”

Corvo’s heart began racing at the pained look in Daud’s eyes. “What do you mean–”

Daud pressed their foreheads together, eyes closing in a moment of peace. “I didn’t see you for ten years. What a fool I was. I wish we’d had more time.”

Corvo felt sick. Everything was happening so fast, they no longer had the upper hand and the plan had fallen to pieces, and he didn’t understand what Daud was trying to say.

He felt the grip on him tighten, Daud’s expression hard with resolution. “Stop Delilah. I know you can, you stubborn thing.”

Corvo’s eyes widened, suddenly and horribly realizing. “No–”

“I’m sorry.”

“Daud– _!”_

Daud shoved him back, and Corvo fell down into the crypt. He landed on his back; the sound of him hitting the stone floor echoed, but it wasn’t a long drop; just long enough for Corvo’s vision to blacken from the impact. He blearily heard the crypt above him sliding shut again. His head snapped up, his breath leaving him as the gravestone closed completely, enveloping him in darkness. Daud had closed the switch, and there was no other way below ground to open it again. The witches would have no clue Corvo was down there.

In blind panic, Corvo used his dark vision. Yellow silhouettes of three hounds lay on the floor of the crypt, stunned by the mine Corvo had planted in the entryway. But four witches surrounded Daud seconds after, and the mine had no more power to protect him.

“Well, well. What do we have here.”

“Sneaking around like a mouse.”

“The mouse of Dunwall!”

The voices were faint, muffled by the ground above.

“We have our trespasser. He’s the one our Lady wants. Leave the others to skulk back to Dunwall.”

“Take him to Delilah. She’ll want to deal with him personally, before the ritual is done.”

Corvo watched, helpless and shaking uncontrollably in the heap where he’d fallen, as the man he loved was dragged towards his death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daud is a melodramatic ass.


End file.
